Making Exceptions
by Embolalia
Summary: When Gibbs waives Rule 12, Tony and Ziva try to decide what it is they really want from each other. *Spoilers for Jet Lag through Jack Knife*
1. Chapter 1

**Making Exceptions**

So, this piece arose from a chapter of my long-running series _Conversations_, about Ziva and Gibbs. The first half of this chapter is taken directly from that piece, so if it seems familiar, keep reading! There's more at the end. Also, about the quote--I searched Bartlett's online for the word "rule" and it was perfect! And thus I got a title.

* * *

**No rule is so general, which admits not some exception.**

Robert Burton (1577-1640)

_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 3._

* * *

"No, _with _the grain," Gibbs insisted.

Ziva turned to him with a glare. "You can always just wait until your shoulder heals to get this done."

Gibbs huffed and crossed the basement to take a swallow from his mug while Ziva kept working. He watched her back for a moment. "Paris is a romantic city," he said thoughtfully. Sure enough there was a telltale stiffening in Ziva's spine.

"So I've heard," she answered dryly, throwing the unspoken question back at him.

He took another swallow, pushing down a memory of Jenny writhing beneath him. They still sprang up against his will once in a while. He didn't take Ziva's bait. "So what did you and DiNozzo get up to?"

Ziva sighed with impatience and refused to dance around the issue further. "We got in late, and Tony was loopy from the sleeping pill he took for the plane. And we were tired enough that when we saw the one bed, Tony said it would be fine if we shared it. So we did."

"That's all there was to it?"

Ziva shrugged.

"Ziva?" His eyes narrowed.

She spun in place, facing him defensively, her tone insistent. "I slept with him, Gibbs. Sleeping." She looked away, forced to admit a secret. "I have not been sleeping well. I still have nightmares of last summer. And when I woke up with Tony, I had slept the whole night in peace. I felt awake for the first time in a long time." Her eyes darted back to Gibbs' in defiance. "We did nothing wrong, I will not apologize."

He smiled back in the face of her temerity. "Wouldn't let you if you tried," he answered lightly, taking another sip.

Ziva chuckled in spite of herself.

"Awkward morning after?" Gibbs added casually. His expression grew concerned when Ziva didn't joke back.

Instead she looked away. This was the incriminating part of the story, the part where she dodged out of the hotel room before Tony woke because laying there in his arms, every sense saturated with him, was more tempting than she had anticipated.

"Or not so awkward?" Gibbs asked, his tone deeper.

She looked up again, glared. "He didn't touch me. Nor I him."

"Did you want him to?" Gibbs returned at once.

Ziva's mouth fell open in shock. "Gibbs!"

He nodded, taking her failure to deny it for the admission it was. "You know," Gibbs said, setting down his bourbon pulling off his sling before reaching out to take the sander from her, "Paris changed my relationship with Jenny forever." He began to slide the sander along the wood, slowly enough that his shoulder was just dully aching. "I made a whole set of rules to be sure I never got hurt like that again."

Ziva watched him warily. "I know."

Gibbs glanced at her. "DiNozzo was over here, last summer." He watched as her entire posture changed, adrenaline making her fidget at the reminder. He straightened, spoke calmly. "He thought you were dead. Yelled at me for rules he didn't like."

Her eyes searched his face, trying to find meaning in what he was saying.

"Made me admit some of them had done you both more harm than good."

Ziva went from agitated to frozen in a moment, transfixed as she processed what Gibbs was saying.

Gibbs went back to sanding. "We all have regrets, Ziva. Once in a while you get to avoid them. To say what you want to say before you lose the chance to say it."

"What do you think I should do?" she whispered, uncertain.

He shrugged and pointed to the workbench. "Grab another one of these, there's a whole section on the other side that still has to be done."

Ziva wordlessly complied. She didn't focus on what her hands were doing, let the little bit of muscle memory she'd built up carry her through the task. Instead she was caught up in a moment from the plane. She'd cited rule twelve, explained it to Nora. Tony had said nothing. Was he thinking of this the whole time? Wondering whether it still held? Her heart raced.

After twenty minutes, Ziva set her sander down. "It is getting late," she said nonchalantly to Gibbs as she crossed the basement to pick up her coat.

He watched her pull it on, his gaze faintly patronizing. "Ready for bed?"

Ziva shrugged, deflecting. "Jet lag always takes some adjusting to." She headed out into the night, hoping he wouldn't call her back for more questions. She wasn't ready to explain herself further to Gibbs. The prospect of trying with Tony was daunting enough.

*

Tony was getting ready for bed when a knock sounded at his door. He turned, frowning, and peered through the peephole. His face slackened in surprise as he glimpsed Ziva, and he pulled the door wide open.

She looked up at him, startled, as if she had not just knocked.

"Hey," Tony said slowly, "what's up?"

Ziva stared at the ground as she pushed in past him through the open door. Tony closed it behind her and turned, watching her as she clasped her hands together and looked up, bracing herself to speak.

"I wanted to explain," Ziva said slowly.

Tony's brow quirked. "Explain what?"

Ziva pursed her lips. She had yet to find the words to express this to him. "I woke up this morning and...I left you sleeping because I was not sure how to respond to the situation."

Now Tony looked worried. "Situation? Did I...I was asleep, but if--"

"No." Ziva waved a hand, dismissing his concern that he had invaded her space. She took a seat on the couch and a deep breath. Tony sat down opposite her. Ziva looked up, determined to be open. "I have not slept well in a long time, Tony. But I slept well with you."

He smiled slowly, with a hint of cockiness at first that quickly faded to tenderness. "I'm glad," Tony said softly.

Ziva wrung her hands in her lap. She actually hadn't imagined the conversation beyond this point.

Tony reached out slowly and took her hands. "Why did you come here?" he asked, intent on her face. "Why tonight?"

She shrugged helplessly. "To be honest, I am not sure, Tony." She was hardly about to admit it had been at Gibbs' instigation, and at any rate she was still not entirely sure Gibbs had even meant for her to come.

He nodded, then stood, tugging on one of her hands. "Well, I'm headed to bed, but you're welcome to join me if you'd like a second helping of human body pillow." He grinned at her, the slightly leering impervious-to-rejection grin Ziva knew well. She also knew how vulnerable he was underneath it. But as she let herself be pulled to her feet, Ziva smiled her answer not because Tony needed it but because her own heart leapt at the opportunity to feel this comfort again.

"Well, it's hardly Paris," Tony muttered as he led Ziva into his bedroom, letting her hand go at last so he could dig out an old t-shirt and boxers from his dresser.

"Nowhere in DC is," Ziva answered lightly, taking the clothes from him and disappearing into the bathroom.

When she returned, Tony was already under the covers, and Ziva hesitantly took the other side of the bed, then reached out and turned off the light.

Laying the dark, Ziva shivered, a reaction to sudden darkness she hadn't been able to shake in the last six months. She stiffened at the feeling of Tony's hand on her arm, but just as he began to withdraw it, she leaned into his touch, let him find her fingers and entangle them with his own.

She smiled as she fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Making Exceptions**

Did anyone else think Masquerade had more TIVA potential than Jet Lag? Within canon, I mean? Because I surely did... Enjoy! And thanks to everyone who's reviewed; your comments did a lot to improve a pretty awful day! I'll warn you, this is pretty fluffy. But the whole thing won't be fluff.

* * *

**No rule is so general, which admits not some exception.**

Robert Burton (1577-1640)

_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 3._

* * *

Ziva awoke to a world of warmth, and softness, and safety. She was so comfortable it took a minute for the memory of all the other mornings to return, the wakings haunted by dreams of violence and trauma. She snuggled closer to the warmth and the chest against her cheek rose and fell in a sigh.

It was too bright to sleep, and for once she wasn't still tired. Ziva slipped out of bed, wrapping her arms around herself, and walked to the window, took in the city. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and for the first time in months Ziva felt like she was noticing. She couldn't stop smiling. She had finally woken up.

"Hey," Tony murmured softly behind her, resting a hand briefly on her shoulder. "How are you feeling? Rested?"

Ziva turned toward him, her eyes still suffused with joy. "Alive," she said softly.

Tony looked down into her face, transported in an instant back to a day months ago, continents ago, when she had stared vacantly at him and told him she was ready to die. He had no idea what had changed, but the fear that had gotten into him at that moment, that had made him tense and anxious all this time, was suddenly gone. He smiled back. Ziva seemed to glow.

Tony stepped away suddenly as emotion and desire overwhelmed him. "First turn in the bathroom!" he said quickly, forcing a grin, and ran for the door.

Inside he flinched, kicking himself for handling the moment so poorly. All he'd wanted was to kiss her but they were too close to undressed, too close to his bed—he didn't want their first real kiss to be like that.

When he finally emerged, Ziva greeted him brightly enough that Tony dismissed his worries. As he narrowed his eyes at her clothes, Ziva shrugged. "I went out to my car to get my emergency bag for overnight cases."

Tony smirked. "Or maybe you came over here hoping to stay the night."

Ziva opened her mouth to retaliate and they relaxed into banter that seemed at once new and incredibly familiar.

*

An hour later Tony got out of his car in the Navy Yard parking lot to find Ziva leaning on the hood of her own car, watching him with feigned disdain. He slid his car keys into his pocket and opened his mouth to concede that she'd won and he'd buy drinks later when his hand touched something and he froze. It was the edge of a business card, and as soon as he felt it, Tony knew what it said on the back: _Dr. Harper--Therapy. Tuesday, 6PM_.

And so as he strolled up to her, Tony opened his mouth and began to spin a story. "You know, I'd love to get you a drink, but I actually have a dancing lesson after work..."

*

They went out to the crash site and were back a few hours later. While McGee and Gibbs escorted Hart and Alfonso to interrogation, Tony leaned against the doorway of the break room, watching Ziva push coins into the vending machine.

"What are you up to, Agent David?" he called. God, how he loved saying _Agent_ and not _Officer_.

Ziva turned and shrugged slyly. "If I know Gibbs, he will be letting Hart and Alfonso cook a while. And they just put popcorn in the vending machines."

Tony nodded his approval. "It's stew. And fantastic idea."

She put the popcorn in the microwave and turned it on.

He gazed at the curve of Ziva's neck as she bent to push the buttons, marveling at the fact that just hours earlier she had been laying against him. Tony was in her space before he knew it, only to step back hesitantly as Ziva turned and jerked in surprise. "Sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't be."

Tony looked down at her lips, then back to her eyes, seized by the same impulse he'd felt earlier. He took a deep breath, and opened his mouth. "So how much do you think Abby and McGee would have bet on us hooking up last night?" He flinched inwardly as he heard himself take the sarcastic way out.

Ziva's eyes quirked and Tony knew she'd seen through his misdirection. "How much would you have bet?" she asked cagily.

He tensed. "Why, did I miss a chance with you?" Tony was hardly kidding.

She shrugged, teasing with her eyes. "I guess we'll never--"

"No." Tony silenced her with a finger to her lips. "No more dancing around it."

Ziva nodded slowly against his fingertip.

Sliding his hand around to the back of her head, Tony dipped his head down and kissed her. Deeply, soundly, with an added measure of hunger as he felt her respond in kind. Behind her popcorn began to go off like fireworks.

Thirty seconds later, Tony and Ziva sprang apart simultaneously as the smell of burning began to spread from the now-silent microwave.

"Open it!" Tony shouted, and fanned with a file as Ziva tried to clear the smoke.

They stared at the fire detector expectantly for a moment, then dissolved into laughter when it failed to go off.

"I'll get more," Ziva said lightly, returning to the vending machine.

Tony nodded. "I'd better get down there." He grinned at her as she turned to watch him leave, and headed down the stairs.

*

Ziva watched the microwave intently as the popcorn began to pop, unwilling to burn another batch. But her thoughts were focused on what had just happened. She had imagined it for years, and yet in the moment it felt completely unexpected, miles away from any fantasy. She wasn't complaining.

Pulling the popcorn out even before it had finished, she darted for the stairs down to interrogation only to arrive as Gibbs was giving orders.

He turned to Tony as she ran up. "Take Ziva. Check the warehouse."

Tony grabbed her elbow and pulled her toward the elevator, waggling his eyebrows just for her. "Take Ziva," he murmured as the elevator doors slid shut.

Ziva giggled, then laughed. Tony joined in. It felt too good to stop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Making Exceptions**

There's nothing like a snowstorm and an early dismissal to make you want to curl up and write! We're getting about 24 inches by tomorrow and another dozen on Tuesday, and given the way Maryland plows the chances are reasonable schools will be closed for the next week solid!

This chapter continues to follow events from Masquerade.

* * *

**No rule is so general, which admits not some exception.**

Robert Burton (1577-1640)

_Anatomy of Melancholy. Part i. Sect. 2, Memb. 2, Subsect. 3._

* * *

Ziva reluctantly let them into the warehouse and flinched at the dust motes floating in the air. How many hours had she spent trying not to breathe, trying to count them all to distract herself from the pain? She closed her eyes briefly. Anything could trigger a memory, even now. She tried not to let the others see it.

But he was hardly one of the others after the last couple days.

She cast a wary glance at Tony out of the corner of her eye as he brought up walls splashed with red. Those walls appeared often in her dreams. And for once she mentioned it, said _his_ name.

Ziva didn't look at Tony as she spoke, moved away and into the warehouse. He followed her, and the weight of his gaze, of his unfathomable thoughts, made her heart race, made her words come slowly. When she spun around, Tony's nearness startled her. So did the worry in his eyes. She deflected quickly, moved on to the case.

Her heart slowed, but Ziva watched Tony collecting evidence with a heavy heart. The night before, their kiss that morning—she had felt like they had gone back to two years ago, to a simpler time. But they hadn't and it wasn't. And if he was going to look at her that way and imagine whatever he was imagining, Ziva wasn't sure if she could do this.

*

"You avoided the question," Tony pointed out as they slid into the car. He saw Ziva stiffen but didn't withdraw the statement.

"You did not ask me anything," she deflected.

He nodded, conceding. "Why don't you ever talk about it?"

Ziva started to shrug him off but Tony interrupted.

"And don't tell me there's nothing to talk about because you admitted yourself you still dream about whatever it was that happened to you."

She turned to Tony as he turned on the engine, her eyes meeting his hesitantly. "Tony, you saw what I became there. What they made of me. I know you don't want to see that part of me."

His eyes widened. It chilled him to hear that _that_ Ziva was still inside her somewhere. But she was wrong; all he wanted was to see her alive.

Tony struggled with the words, then forced them out. Hell, McGee knew. And even though he'd talked Palmer into being his dancing-lesson cover story, it wasn't worth keeping this from her when it might help. "You know, I've been going to therapy." He could practically feel the weight of her wide-eyed silence. He pulled out of the alley and turned toward the Navy Yard, an excuse to divert his attention.

"Why?" Ziva whispered, fearing the answer.

Tony glanced over at the next stop sign, then began, keeping his eyes on the road. "When you stayed behind in Israel, I lost my partner, my best friend. But at least I was angry, so I didn't have to admit that it was a loss. And the last time you left, you made it back." Tony took a deep breath. "Then we found out you were dead. Gibbs told us..." He exhaled shakily. "It hit me all at once, that you were gone. In a forever kind of way." Tony stopped at a light as he crossed a state street and hesitantly turned, found Ziva's eyes filled with sympathy and guilt.

He looked away. "Abby was the one who made me go, and as much as I fought it, it was good. I needed to talk about you, and the others were doing everything they could to hold themselves together. They couldn't take me breaking down. But the doctor...just listened. Validated my feelings." He flinched a little at using the clinical language in front of Ziva.

Tony's voice dropped to a whisper. He wanted to keep the next part to himself, but he seemed to be on an honesty binge. "It was harder after we found you. You were alive and I felt awful for how angry I'd been before. I couldn't be angry at you after what you'd been through, and Salim was dead, and I'd already taken plenty out on Gibbs—but everything was still wrong. It's taken this long to even start to come right."

Ziva's hand settled lightly on his shoulder, but Tony resisted turning. It was dizzying how far they'd come in a day. As he pulled into the parking lot she tugged on his collar.

"I'm sorry I was not someone you could talk to," Ziva said softly. "Before I left, and since my return."

Tony shook his head. "It's not about that, Ziva. There...there are things you and I aren't ready to say to each other yet. Or at least we haven't been." He slid the car into park and turned fully to face her. "That's what I'm trying to say. It's okay if you're not ready to talk to me about what happened, or if you're never ready. But talk about it with someone."

Ziva nodded once. "I talk to Gibbs," she said softly.

"About this?" he pressed.

She opened her mouth to say yes, but stopped. "I did, once. When I first got back." Her eyes fell. "It hurts, Tony. There was so much fear and pain—I do not want to be the sort of person who dwells in those feelings. It was my moment of greatest weakness."

He took her hand without thinking about it, and to Tony's relief Ziva did not pull away.

"There's nothing weak about surviving," Tony said softly, emphatically.

Ziva nodded slowly, though Tony wasn't sure if she was agreeing.

"Talk to someone," Tony said again as he released her hand. "No matter who it is."

*

They went inside and settled into their work, and it felt seamless, this transition from personal to professional. But in the car again, tracking Alfonso, the earlier lightness that had let them joke about Gibbs and Hart had suddenly vanished in the face of their conversation about Somalia. And Ziva found that the intensity between them was already nearly overwhelming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Making Exceptions**

Thank you all for your wonderful feedback so far! They've already announced tomorrow is a snow day--good luck to those of you who'll be digging out your cars and everyone be sure to check back for more.

A note on canon: I'm basing the story in the world I've created in my series _Conversations_, especially as far as the Ziva/Gibbs friendship is concerned, EXCEPT that in that series Tony and Ziva slept together around the time of Judgment Day and as far as this piece is concerned they haven't been romantically involved off-screen before.

This is the first time in a while I've introduced an outside character, so let me know what you think. Also, while I work with child psychologists on a daily basis, I've never been in adult therapy, so my apologies if my portrayal is inaccurate. Oh dear, guys, in my efforts to make this realistic, it's starting to get darker...

* * *

Ziva focused on her computer screen, taking a breath before turning to look up at Tony. "Yes?"

"I...well, I have an appointment now," he said, his tone even but his eyes nervous.

She nodded politely. "We shall take a rain check on our drink?"

"Tomorrow?" he tried to keep the eagerness from his voice.

"Sure." Ziva smiled up at him but had to restrain a flinch. As she watched him walk away, something ached inside her. Waking up with him she'd felt such joy, but after dwelling in awful memories all afternoon she wondered if she could ever find lasting happiness with someone who reminded her at every turn of the traumas of her past.

*

"How are you today?"

Tony fought a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief at his own emotions as he settled into his usual armchair. When he'd first started coming here, the answer had always been _horrible. _Some days he was resentful about it, some days he was resolute, but the answer was the same. Today at least he wasn't horrible.

Across from him Eileen Harper raised her eyes inquisitively. "Tony?"

He grinned mirthlessly. "I don't know," Tony said simply.

Looking down at her pad of paper, Harper didn't let a hint of pride that he could say so waver her brow.

After ten years with Gibbs, Tony saw it anyway and smiled more genuinely. He'd fought Abby about therapy, had complained at length that he didn't need a mother figure, could handle his problems on his own. He still wouldn't admit that he did and he couldn't, but the older woman's approval was still satisfying.

"Well, what do you feel uncertain about?" the doctor prompted.

Tony sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and dropping his gaze to his hands. "I slept with Ziva last night."

Harper barely kept the alarm she felt off her face. "Last week you thought she was avoiding you."

He looked up, clarifying. "We didn't have sex. We...the last few days... Okay. So, we went to Paris." Tony winced. "And we had to share a bed. And when your beautiful, silk-clad partner is laying next to you between satin sheets, you have certain...urges...but nothing happened." He took a breath, but Harper didn't say anything so he continued. "And the next night we were home, and Ziva came over. She said she hadn't slept well except that night with me since, well, in a long time. And so we slept together—sleeping—again."

Tony frowned thoughtfully for a moment, mulling the story over in his head as he told it. "I woke up this morning and she was by the window, and she looked at me...it was the first time in more than a year that she's seemed like herself." Tony's gaze drifted across the books on the shelf as the awe in his own voice made him self-conscious. "I felt like I had her back. And at work...I kissed her." Now he made eye contact with the doctor, proudly but without any trace of his old attitude of conquest.

"How did you feel then?" she asked mildly.

He smiled. "Elated. Like I finally had what I wanted."

Doctor Harper cocked her head. "And what happened to make you feel confused now?"

Tony closed his eyes, remembering Ziva's face in the warehouse, the edge of panic in her eyes as he pressed her to talk about Somalia. He whispered his answer. "I'm not sure if she's still who I wanted."

His throat threatened to close up behind the words, and only six months of hard-earned trust let him say them at all. When he opened his eyes, Harper was watching him sympathetically.

"People change, Tony," she pointed out. "Whether we want them to or not."

He nodded.

"We change ourselves."

"She doesn't want to talk to me," Tony said, his tone harsher than he'd have liked. "And I know she's been through a lot, and I told her it doesn't matter who she talks to about it, that she should even see a therapist, but I _wanted _her to want to talk to _me._" He fought the urge to stand, to pace in his agitation just as she did. "She used to," he added softly.

"You've both been through a lot," Harper pointed out. "Have _you_ talked to _her_ about it?"

"I started to," Tony answered. "She seemed to want me to."

She watched him a moment, evaluating his story. "Well, if it's what she wants, your friend might certainly benefit from counseling. And if you want her to talk to you too, you might need to take the first step. Express yourself first since you know she might not be ready."

Tony nodded once, pondering the advice.

"So have you spoken to your father since his visit?"

He shook his head, let the conversation move on. But Ziva never left his thoughts for long.

*

Ziva sat in Gibbs' kitchen, still laughing over Allison Hart's antics. "I can not believe you slept with her!" she exclaimed. She'd driven up just in time to see the disheveled Hart leaving, and it had taken only minutes to get the story from Gibbs.

He glared at her as he poured them glasses of bourbon. "You've admitted to sleeping with someone for information or advantage," he muttered.

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "You took one for the team?" she asked, unable to keep from grinning.

Gibbs snorted. "Tony teach you that one?" He turned in time to catch the apprehension that distorted Ziva's features at the name.

She nodded a little more calmly.

"Something you want to tell me about?" he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Ziva looked up, then shook her head. "Not yet." She watched Gibbs' back as he put the bourbon away and turned back with their glasses. "Should we go downstairs?"

He grimaced. "Afraid my shoulder also took one for the team." He flapped his sling.

She nodded to herself, then reevaluated his earlier question. "Actually," she accepted the glass, "maybe there is something I should talk to you about."

"Yeah?" Gibbs sat down opposite her.

Ziva looked down into the amber for a moment before taking a sip. "Tony was saying earlier that I should talk to someone about...what happened."

"In Somalia?" Gibbs didn't miss her flinch.

"Yes."

"Is that what you want to do?"

Ziva's eyes snapped to his. "I want it to be over. I want to be better."

Gibbs frowned. "Most of the time you seem better."

She glanced guiltily down into her glass, shook her head.

"Well then," Gibbs said, firmly enough to make her look up at him, "tell me anything you'd like."

Ziva pursed her lips, trying to decide where to start.


	5. Chapter 5

**Making Exceptions**

Wow, I woke up to quite a reaction from you all in your reviews! Now, as far as Tony being uncertain about Ziva, I'll say this and then let you watch how it unfolds: Ziva has changed, has been changed. And sometimes when you build up what you want in your head into a fantasy of ridiculous proportions, it takes time to realize that reality won't be anything like it. We're going to explore Tony's realization for the next little while, and maybe Ziva's, too. But don't worry too much.

* * *

Ziva awoke in the center of her bed, curled into a ball so tight her muscles were aching from holding the position. She struggled to breathe deeply and slowly straighten her limbs. The sheets around her were damp with nervous sweat. She nearly sobbed with disappointment that after two nights of calm sleep the dreams had returned.

Ziva rolled on to her back and began to relax her body. She had tried to explain to Gibbs last night the lingering fear her captivity had left her with, how worse than any single pain was the way she had been reduced to constant terror, unable to sleep without awakening to agony delivered at the hands and boots of her captors. It had been difficult to express, even to Gibbs, but it was far worse to relive every night.

The alarm on her nightstand rang out suddenly and Ziva was on her feet beside the bed, the sheet strewn across the floor, before she could register what the noise meant. With a shaking hand, she switched it off, and began to dress for work. Just like every other morning.

*

That night Tony watched Ziva across the bullpen as she finished filing her last report. They'd caught a case first thing that morning that had taken the entire day to work out. It was nearly 10, and he wanted to ask her out for the drink she'd won the day before but he could tell from the listlessness in her posture as she rose to get her pages from the printer that she was exhausted.

"Ziva?" he said softly as she returned to their area.

Her head jerked up a bit at the sound of his voice, then she forced herself to turn slowly.

"It's been a long day for a drink," he said quietly, circling his desk to stand beside her, "but we could have one at my place if you're up for it."

For a moment her eyes seemed to reject the idea, but then Ziva nodded. "Alright," she said with a small smile. "I will meet you there?"

"Okay." Tony grinned down at her. He watched her as she pulled on her coat and headed for the door. He reached for his own, then whistled to himself as he headed to the break room. They'd need popcorn for the movie, or at least he hoped so.

*

Ziva laughed when he brought it out, which made everything worth it. Tony passed her a beer and the bowl of popcorn, and didn't miss how she scooted closer to the center of the couch while he went back to the kitchen for his own beer. Settling beside her and pressing play on a Bond movie, Tony stretched an arm around her shoulders. He rested his cheek against Ziva's temple as she nestled into him, and he wondered how he could ever have doubted this.

An hour later, Tony shifted, trying not to react to the nearly naked Bond girl on the screen. He felt Ziva turn, her lips tickling at his ear. "She is beautiful, no?" she murmured in a sultry undertone.

Tony turned to look into her eyes, their faces inches apart. He could see the teasing in Ziva's eyes, could see the desire, too. "Nothing like you," he whispered back.

Ziva rolled her eyes, dismissing the compliment, but Tony could tell from the irrepressible quirk of her lips that she was flattered. He leaned forward and kissed her.

They pressed closer at once, the movie forgotten as Tony's fingers slid into Ziva's hair and hers found his shoulders in turn, holding him against her. This kiss was more serious than the one they'd shared at work—there was no threat of interruption, just a promise of pleasure.

Tony moaned as Ziva nipped at his lip and he pressed her backward into the arm of the couch, slipping his hand to the small of her back to trace the flesh at the edge of her t-shirt.

Her hands at his shoulders pushed Tony away abruptly.

"What?" he panted, confused.

Ziva closed her eyes. Her features went blank.

Tony's stomach dropped. "Ziva?" he whispered.

She looked back at him, revealing a trace of lingering anxiety in her eyes. "I am not ready for that. Not yet." Her tone was apologetic but firm.

Tony shrugged, trying not to let her see his regret. "That's okay. That's fine." He paused, then added. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ziva shook her head slowly. "Not right now."

"Okay." He forced a smile. "More movie?"

She nodded hesitantly, and they turned back to the screen, but she kept an inch of space between them as Bond leapt from the bed and raced around the screen.

As the credits rolled half an hour later, Tony hesitantly took Ziva's hand. "Hey."

She turned, her eyes still uncertain.

"Do you want to stay over again? Just to sleep?" He didn't miss the relief in Ziva's face at his offer and was glad he'd made it.

"I brought pajamas," Ziva admitted with an embarrassed smile.

Tony nodded. "Good."

They crawled into bed together, laying separately but close. It was slow, Tony thought to himself, but they were going somewhere together.

*

Tony came slowly awake to the sound of whimpering, a stream of some language—Hebrew?–that sounded like a child's pleading. Then Ziva screamed. He was sitting up at once, reaching for her.

"Ziva!" he shouted, grabbing her shoulders.

Pain lanced through his chest as Ziva slammed a fist into him, throwing him across the bed as she hurled herself in the opposite direction.

Tony looked toward her in shock. In the dim light from the streetlamp outside the window he could see Ziva crouching at the side of the bed, looking up at him with the same eyes that had faced him blankly, asking for death, in Africa. "Ziva," he said again, his voice trembling with fear. He had thought she was herself again.

Ziva saw the rejection in his eyes without understanding and stood, trembling, darted out into the living room.

Tony followed her at once, stood in the bedroom doorway and watched as Ziva pulled a blanket from the couch around her shoulders and crossed to the furthest corner of the room, pressing her back into the corner and watching him warily.

"You were dreaming," he said firmly.

After a moment she nodded. "I told you..." Her eyes suddenly saddened. "I hoped it would not happen here."

Tony ached with pity for the devastation in Ziva's voice, but the knowledge of how deeply broken she was brought back all of his doubts.

Ziva slowly straightened in the corner where she stood, relaxing as the dream faded from her consciousness. She stepped toward Tony and flinched when he stepped back. "Do you want me to tell you what happened?" she whispered, staring at him imploringly, willing but nervous.

Tony gazed back at her for a long moment, then slowly shook his head. "No. I don't."

She tried to hide the rejection she felt. "I see."

"Ziva," Tony said, running his hand through his hair as she tried to find words to explain, "I don't want it to be real. I don't want it to have happened to you." He stretched out a hand but did not move toward her.

Ziva nodded once, then shrugged. "It cannot be undone."

His hand fell. "I know."

She swallowed hard. "I had better go," she said, her voice barely a whisper as she fought tears. "Let you sleep."

Tony didn't answer, didn't even move as he watched her gather her things. As she reached the door, Ziva turned to smile sadly at him before opening it, but when he could do no more than nod a farewell, she left.

He went back to his bed, but Tony didn't sleep. He lay awake for hours, wondering what she'd been remembering that had reduced her to begging and wailing, reduced her to someone he had never met or worked with or fallen in love with. All he knew was that the Ziva he had gone to avenge was not the one he had brought home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Making Exceptions**

Thanks very much for reviewing! And to those of you who were perturbed by the last chapter: you may not like Tony's actions so far, but while I'll be the first to admit he's matured, can't we all agree that he's less than ideally emotionally developed and that he doesn't necessarily know how to deal with both figuring out how to be in a relationship _and _having his partner/lover fall apart in front of him?

* * *

Ziva slid into her car, slamming the door and resting her forehead against the wheel. She squeezed her eyes shut hard. The warmth of Tony's bed had fled and she was cold. After a moment Ziva turned the car on, checked the time. 1:32. Not too late, then.

She drove through the streets of Washington DC but barely paid attention to the signs or scenery. Instead her mind showed her again and again the look on Tony's face the moment that he realized she wasn't worth the trouble, that she was too damaged. A tear streaked down her cheek and then another. Ziva wiped them angrily away but more came.

She pulled into Gibbs' driveway with a jerk of the steering wheel and stopped the car, resting her face in her hands as the tears kept coming. After everything, he didn't want her.

Ziva was so distraught that she jerked to awareness as Gibbs opened the passenger door. "Gibbs?" she spluttered.

"Saw you pull up," he said, his eyes worried as he took in her damp countenance. Gibbs slowly reached out and touched her shoulder. "What's wrong, Ziver?"

He sat and stroked her hair, rubbed her back, for several long minutes as she explained what had happened: sleeping with Tony, the dream, both of their reactions. Ziva rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. "I had so hoped that the dreams were over," she finished huskily. "But it turns out they are not, and he does not want me like this." She turned and met his eyes, flinched when she saw a little of the same distress she'd found in Tony's.

"Do you think this is easy, Ziver?" Gibbs asked after evaluating her for a moment. "You've been through something horrible, and it's not easy for the rest of us to love you and know something horrible happened that we couldn't protect you from."

"But _you_ are still here," Ziva said petulantly.

He sighed. "I went through PTSD, Ziva, after the Gulf, after Shannon—the dreaming, the panic attacks..."

Ziva startled a bit. "You think I have PTSD?"

Gibbs stroked her hair again as he answered. "I'm pretty sure. There's not much past time and talking that heals it, and I knew you wouldn't do that with a stranger. I've tried to be here." When Ziva didn't answer, he continued. "There's nothing easy about watching someone go through trauma. I didn't see you in there, when you were still a captive, but I saw you afterward, when you were beginning to understand again that you'd live. And it was still hard to watch."

She blinked tearfully. "I'm sorry," she whispered forlornly.

Gibbs leaned over, hugging her against him as hard as he could in the awkward position. "Don't ever be. I lost a child once, Ziva." He closed his eyes as he remembered, felt Ziva wrap her own arms around him. "That was far, far worse than having to help you heal."

He felt Ziva's chin pressing into his shoulder as she nodded.

After a long minute, Gibbs pulled away. "Do you want the couch or would you rather your own bed?"

She paused. "I should go home," she said softly.

Gibbs nodded, but hesitated before opening the door. "It's hard for him too, Ziva," he said, his hand on the handle. "It's not that he doesn't want you, he just didn't know how hard it would be." He held her gaze until she nodded, trying to accept his words, then he slid out of the car.

Ziva's heart still ached as she drove toward her apartment, but her crying had passed.

*

Tony sat at his desk early the next morning. At five o'clock, still sleepless, he'd finally come into work to get started on the reports he had to finish from yesterday's case. As he somnolently reread what he'd typed, Tony's chest ached with every breath where Ziva's had struck him as she woke the night before. The same place she had struck him in Israel. He already regretted what had happened, that he had not gone after her. But all the same, he had no idea what he could have said if he'd caught her.

With a smack to his head that knocked him painfully forward into the edge of his desk, Gibbs woke him up. "C'mon," Tony's boss snarled.

Tony rose at once, following him to the elevator.

Gibbs didn't speak until they were between floors, the elevator stalled. Tony didn't speak either.

"Last summer, you told me you loved her," Gibbs snarled.

Tony flinched, remembering. It was all a bit blurry. Gibbs had had to pick him up from a bar a week after Ziva had died, had had to take him home and listen to him rant about loving Ziva and the stupidity of the rules. The emotion was not at all blurry. He had missed her so terribly that night. "I did," Tony whispered.

Gibbs stepped closer to him, forcing Tony to meet his gaze. "Did you love her when she was alive, Tony? Or was it just a fantasy you could let yourself believe because she was never coming back?"

He paused a long time before quietly answering. "I did. There was a moment a few years ago, a bomb in a warehouse," he smiled faintly at the memory. "I started to tease her and she took it so seriously...we'd spent all those summer months getting closer and suddenly, when she was just a little afraid, I could see in her face how much she cared. And I knew I hated having hurt her feelings. Knew I cared for her too. But I was already with Jeanne, and I put it away. For too long."

Gibbs nodded once. "I know."

"What?" Tony frowned.

"Just making sure you were sure. I know what it looks like, recognized it that night." Gibbs paused and looked away before explaining. "I lost the woman I loved once, too."

Tony's eyes flared. Gibbs never talked about her, even now that they all knew. "Boss--"

Gibbs shook his head, cutting Tony off. "Ziva came by last night." He watched his agent recoil. It made his tone all the harsher. "You didn't get her back the way you wanted, but you got her. Isn't it worth at least figuring out who she is now? Cause she hasn't figured it out either, and it seems like she could use some more help than mine."

Tony nodded in shame.

"She's your partner," Gibbs continued. "And whatever else happens, she'll always be that. She needs to trust you, not worry you'll hurt her when she's vulnerable. Fix this."

Hearing the description made Tony cringe at his own actions. "I'll try," he said firmly.

Gibbs just glared.

Tony gave a nod. "I'll do it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Making Exceptions**

So, how did the rest of you feel about Jack Knife? I liked it pretty well. I'll probably have events in this story fill in that episode too, but not in this chapter.

* * *

Tony snapped his phone closed and sighed with relief. Dr. Harper had an opening at 5:30 she'd hold for him. Now for the hard part.

He waited until Ziva set down her a phone with a quick, "Bye, Abby," and rose from her seat. Tony was relieved to see her head for the stairs instead of the elevator. He didn't want her to feel cornered.

"Hey!" he said, jogging to catch her.

"What?" Ziva said warily, turning and making eye contact with him for the first time all day.

"I need to talk to you," Tony said gently. He saw a hint of fear in her eyes and cursed himself inwardly. He led her to the stairwell, holding the door for her, before speaking again. "I want to apologize," Tony said stiffly. Ziva didn't call him on the rules and Tony winced. He tried to explain. "I shouldn't have let you leave last night. I didn't mean to...It makes me so angry just to imagine what happened to you. And I know it's not your fault, I'm not angry at you. I just...I can't stand it!"

Ziva nodded, trying to keep her face clear of emotion. "You do not have to, Tony. It was I who came to you. If it makes you uncomfortable--"

"No," Tony cut her off, "It's not that. I don't want you to stop. I..." He took a breath, laughed nervously. "In Paris, and that first night in my apartment, sleeping with you felt right. Like we'd skipped right to the middle of a relationship, where you're in love and trust the other person and you know what to expect."

Ziva smiled sadly. "I liked that feeling, too."

He nodded with a touch of relief. "The thing is, I wasn't ready to see you like that and know what to do. And I'm sorry, but...I think we'd better start at the beginning," he concluded.

With a nod, Ziva winced sympathetically at him. "Sometimes it's too much for me, too," she murmured.

Tony stepped toward her, hugged her gently against him. She hugged him back. He nearly grinned. Then he remembered why he was following her.

"Ziva," he said softly, stepping away.

She looked up, her eyes still alert.

"There's a therapist, a doctor, that I've been seeing for a while now."

Ziva nodded, eyes wary.

"Would you come see her? Talk to her? I made an appointment for this evening." He read Ziva's instinctive refusal in her posture and grabbed her hand. "Ziva. Please just try it."

She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. "Alright."

*

Ziva shifted nervously in the armchair, her back perfectly straight as she unconsciously fell back on military rules in an unfamiliar environment. Outside the door, she could hear Tony and Eileen Harper talking in muffled tones. Tony had wanted to come in, but when the doctor had realized it was Ziva's appointment she had said firmly that she needed to meet with Ziva alone first.

Finally the door opened and the doctor entered, smiling pleasantly. "Tony will be just out in the waiting room."

Ziva's eyes darted around the room, reflexively calculating escape routes.

"So what brought you here today?" Harper asked, taking her own seat.

She shrugged. "Tony. He thought I should talk to you."

Harper nodded, made a note surreptitiously on her notepad. "And do you think you should?"

Ziva didn't answer, her heart already racing at the pressure. After a moment, when it became clear the woman was going to wait, she spoke. "I do not like help." She paused, then qualified. "It feels like weakness to ask for help."

Harper nodded thoughtfully. "But you'll let Tony help you?"

Ziva shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "He is my partner."

The doctor cocked her head. "You've had your share of conflicts. You still expect him to help you?" She watched Ziva's expression change, noticing the flicker of doubt in the younger woman's eyes.

"I do," Ziva said, realizing with a wave of anxiety that Harper was right—she had very little claim on Tony's trust after everything.

Harper realized her tension and leaned forward toward Ziva. "From what I've heard from him, you rely heavily on each other, even where it's not entirely justified," she said firmly. "and to me it makes sense that leaning on your relationship even more without building genuine trust isn't working."

Ziva tried to process what the doctor had said. It started to make sense.

"I'm here to help you do that, if it's what you both want," Harper said, leaning back again. "But right now I want to get to know you. What can you tell me about yourself?"

"Is this going to be all about my parents?" Ziva asked snarkily.

Harper smiled. "Tony was sarcastic at first, too. But would you like to talk about your parents?"

Ziva looked suddenly lost, her eyes dropping to her lap.

"Ziva?" the doctor asked.

She pursed her lips. Somehow it didn't seem so daunting to say this to a stranger. "My father sent me on a suicide mission. He did not expect me to come back. And he did not say goodbye." It was still somehow baffling.

Harper tried to maintain some distance, to keep the pity off her face. No wonder this girl was desperate for Tony's support.

Ziva tried to shrug it off as the implications flashed through her own mind. "We were never very close. He trained me, but he was never...nurturing, I suppose."

"And your mother?" Harper asked gently.

She shook her head. "She died when I was young." Ziva glanced up, evaluating the doctor, then told the rest. "My sister and brother are also dead."

"I'm sorry for your losses."

Ziva fought the urge to pace. "I have survived a lot," she said diffidently. "And I have recovered. And I have not had to _talk _about it."

Harper shrugged. "I'm not making you. But I'm here if you'd like to try." She saw Ziva's whole body tense. "It doesn't have to be today. Let's start with, how are you doing right now?"

With a deep breath, Ziva tried to describe it. "Some days I am fine. And other days...little things remind me of what happened. And I dream of it every night." She paused. "A fried of mine believes I have post-traumatic stress disorder."

The doctor nodded. "That seems possible." She deliberately relaxed, hoping Ziva would realize at some level that she was not a threat. "Can you tell me about what reminds you, what sets you off?"

Ziva took a nervous breath and glanced toward the door. "Can Tony come in?"

Harper tried not to show her surprise. "You can ask him."

Ziva was out of her seat at once. "Tony?" she called into the waiting room.

He set down his magazine and looked up alertly. "Yeah?"

"Would you come in? Please?"

"Of course."

Ziva hadn't realized quite how tense she was, but as he sat down next to her she suddenly felt safer.

Harper smiled pleasantly at him. "Ziva was going to tell me about the things that still remind her of what she went through."

Tony nodded seriously, his eyes on Ziva's face.

She took a deep breath and began, describing how even now, though less frequently, the smell of Abby's Caf-Pow would make her heart race, how the slamming of gates and doors made her recoil, how cases with women who'd been assaulted brought other memories streaming back. Tony reached out half-way through for her hand, and Ziva took his gratefully. She looked back and forth between him and the doctor as she spoke, describing not her captivity but the daily reminders.

Before they left, the doctor spoke to both of them. "I can tell you care about each other," she said gently. "But you've both been through a lot, and it would be unreasonable to expect this to be easy. Try to give each other some time to deal with it." They nodded.

*

Neither Tony nor Ziva spoke until they were in Tony's car.

"Was that too much?" Tony asked nervously, glancing over at Ziva as they drove toward her apartment.

She stared at her lap a moment. "No." She twisted in her seat. "Was it too much for you?"

He sighed. "It was a lot," Tony said softly, remembering her description of the fear she struggled with daily. As they stopped in front of her apartment, Tony turned to Ziva. "I'll see you in the morning," he said firmly.

Ziva nodded. She wasn't sure how this worked if they were starting over. But just to be safe, she gave him nothing more than a smile and a quiet good-bye, and headed inside.


	8. Chapter 8

**Making Exceptions**

Folks, I am so tired of snow. Right now we're not going back to school until Tuesday, but there's going to be a storm Monday night. My roommates and I are on our second 1,000 piece puzzle. This is too much. But for you it just means today's chapter is long.

Brief notes on time-line for this story: Tony and Ziva flew home from Jet Lag on a Monday and had their sleepover; on Tuesday Tony and Ziva met with Harper and Gibbs; on Wednesday they had their drink and near-sleepover; on Thursday they went to therapy together. We continue now on Monday of this imaginary saga. The events of Jack Knife are coming up on Tuesday and this chapter starts to pick up on threads for Jack Knife, like Ziva's comments to Werth about "my friends who know about trauma" and Gibbs "wake up Tony and Ziva"...you'll see what I mean.

* * *

Ziva shifted in her chair. She was sitting on her hands to keep from twisting them. Suddenly it was too familiar; she could remember the strain in her wrists as she tried to pull them loose from knotted rope. She was on her feet before she even thought of standing, her legs shaking with as much adrenaline as if she really had just escaped.

"What were you thinking of?" Harper asked softly.

Ziva rubbed unconsciously at her wrists. It took her a moment to answer. "Sometimes they would tie me up while they interrogated me." She looked down and saw what she was doing, stopped at once.

Harper nodded. "Do you feel like I'm interrogating you?"

She shrugged uncertainly. "You are asking me questions."

The doctor frowned. "What helps you calm down?" she asked. "Not just when you're upset, but in general."

Ziva smiled reflexively, remembering explaining it to Tony once. "I usually clean my gun to settle myself." She smiled more widely when she saw Harper's eyebrows shoot up.

After a moment, the doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Well go ahead."

Now Ziva's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Be my guest."

With a touch of wariness, Ziva dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged, then took out her guns and laid them on the coffee table in front of her. Reaching for her bag, she pulled out the folded pouch of brushes. After a moment she fell into the task with the ease of long practice.

From above her, Harper's words drifted down. "There's a science to it, Ziva. Fear isn't just something that you feel or you don't, there's a whole set of chemical reactions happening in your brain that tell you if you're afraid and how afraid you are and that tell your muscles to keep working or to freeze. When you go through a trauma, especially over a period of time the way you did, the experience trains your brain to react more fearfully to particular stimuli. The chemistry of your brain during a trauma can also make the memories stronger."

Ziva snapped her Sig back together and reached for her back up. "Why?" she asked softly.

"Why what?" Harper asked.

Glancing upward, Ziva elaborated. "Why does it happen? It does not make sense that our brains would be wired to focus on the worst things that happen to us."

Harper frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know. In terms of natural selection, I suppose that if you're lucky enough to survive being attacked by a bear it's to your advantage to remember it and go warn everyone you ever meet."

"So it happens in order to learn from your mistakes."

Now Harper grew wary. "This didn't happen because you made a mistake, Ziva."

"A series of mistakes," she said firmly, turning back to her smaller weapon.

"Ziva," the doctor said softly, shifting toward Ziva.

She looked up.

"I don't know your whole story. I don't know you very well yet. But I know that whatever those men did to you, it had nothing to do with your story or who you are. It had to do with them being the kind of people who enjoy pain and feel no compassion. And you are not responsible for that."

Her hand was tensing on the weapon as she tried to process it all, but Ziva didn't look away.

Finally Harper leaned back, reached for the little clock on her desk. "That's all the time we have right now."

Again Ziva nearly leapt to her feet.

Harper suppressed a smile. "Have a good evening."

*

Tony sat at his desk with his feet up, but his relaxed posture belied his alertness. Every ten seconds his eyes darted toward the elevator. It had been four days since he and Ziva had gone to see Dr. Harper together, four days of distance as they tried to figure out what _giving each other space_ and _starting at the beginning_ meant. She'd given him an immensely grateful smile that morning as he arrived at the lab with a seasonally minty Caff-Pow for Abby, but they hadn't spoken. Now she was due back any minute from the appointment she'd made for herself.

"She'll be back when she's back," Gibbs growled from his desk.

Tony jumped and glanced over.

"You're more nervous than I was the first time I proposed," Gibbs added.

The younger agent winced. "Yeah, boss. Trying to figure out how to ask her out."

Gibbs smirked. "Thought that was your thing, DiNozzo."

Tony shrugged. "We're trying to start at the beginning. But the beginning for us was, well, deception and thinly veiled insults."

Now Gibbs chuckled. "That's where relationships are supposed to end, Tony."

Cocking his head, Tony smiled thoughtfully. "Actually, Boss, that gives me an idea."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Happy to help."

"Good," Tony answered, his mouth curving wickedly as a plan took shape in his mind. "I'm gonna need some."

*

Ziva watched Tony warily from the passenger seat as he parallel parked. "Where are we?"

He grinned mischievously. "Don't you remember?"

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She opened the door and got out, looking down the block and then back up before realizing and turning to Tony with a delighted laugh. "I do."

"I know it's not raining," he slammed his own door, "but if we're starting at the beginning, where else would we start?" Offering Ziva his elbow, he led the way into the hotel, passing with a fond glance the spot where more than four years earlier they had said goodnight in the rain.

Tony kept walking past the restaurant, ignoring Ziva looking at him askance, until they reached the pool. There he stopped and held the door for her as she laughed again.

"We did not even speak here, Tony," she said, crossing to the bench where a pizza and bottles of wine were conveniently waiting.

"I watched you swim," he answered defensively. "And don't even pretend you didn't know it." He caught her smile and smiled back. "This time I had my own co-conspirator leave supplies." He gestured to the food and drink.

"Gibbs?"

Tony shrugged elaborately. "We just met, how would you know my conspirators?"

"Well," Ziva said with mock sadness, "I do not know if I would go on a second date with someone who took me to a hotel swimming pool and did not explain."

"Alright, alright," Tony said, gesturing for her to sit and then joining her. "Gibbs."

Ziva took out a piece of pizza and studied it a moment. "I told you about Tali that night," she said softly.

Tony nodded. "I remember. Funny, you don't talk about her much even now."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "You asked me how I got where I was, and she was part of it. Also I was thinking of her, remembering her death, because I knew Ari's life was in danger. But it even surprised me at the time, that I trusted you with that story."

"Good instincts," Tony offered cavalierly. He was rewarded with a grin.

"Something like that." She bit into her pizza.

*

It wasn't until Ziva was standing in his apartment giggling that Tony realized how much wine she had had.

"Careful there, you clearly haven't been drinking too much lately," he teased affectionately as Ziva nearly stumbled into his couch.

She shed her coat and turned, taking two suddenly graceful steps into his personal space. Stopping there Ziva looked up with sultry eyes and pushed Tony's coat off his shoulders. "I thought we just met."

He grinned as she threw his coat down beside hers. The date had gone as well as he could have hoped; nothing had reminded either of them of Africa all night. Tony froze as Ziva turned and walked back toward him, her hips swaying with silent promise. He'd had to drive, hadn't drunk nearly as much of the wine as she had, but right now something else was tantalizing his senses.

Ziva leaned into him, her lips a centimeter from his neck, her breath soft on his throat. "I've heard a lot about what the DiNozzo charm can get done on a first date." Her tongue flickered over exactly the right spot.

And then he was kissing her. She was kissing him. And it was like she was her old self, the girl they both wished she still was. For a moment things were they were supposed to be. And in a matter of seconds Tony had Ziva between his body and the door and she was wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her, pressed against her. His mouth didn't leave hers until she pulled back to gasp his name. _Tony._

Somehow that was what pulled him back to reality. Tony stepped back, set Ziva on her own feet. "Ziva, we shouldn't," he said regretfully.

Her posture grew defensive but her flirtatiousness didn't fade. "Don't tell me you have not done this on first dates before." She slid her arms back around his neck, pressing close.

"Ziva." Tony reached back and took her wrists, trying to disengage her gently. He realized at once it was a mistake. The alluring woman before him turned in a split second into a trembling girl trying to pull free of his hands. He released her immediately.

Ziva stepped away from him, nodding, trying to get a deep enough breath.

"I'm sorry," Tony offered, reaching out to her.

She nodded, pacing to calm herself. After a moment, she turned back to Tony, who was watching her with agonized eyes. "It is not your fault, Tony," she said firmly. "I should not have rushed this, I was not thinking clearly."

"I wasn't apologizing for the kissing," he said emphatically. Ziva gave a hint of a smile and he began to relax. He hadn't broken anything.

"But I suppose our date should end now."

Tony frowned. "There's no way I'm letting you drive like this."

Ziva looked uncomfortable. "If I stayed here...I would not like to risk hurting you like last time."

Tony waved her away. "Don't worry, I'll sleep out here."

She gave him a pointed look. "Your couch is not that comfortable."

"But there's the chair!" He didn't point out that he'd never tried to sleep on it before. "It's a massage chair, so you know it'll be comfortable."

Ziva smiled fondly. They both knew she didn't believe him. But they both knew he was trying. And so she played along and they tried together.

* * *

P.S. Does anyone remember the name of the hotel in Kill Ari 2? I couldn't seem to find it online and our internet is too slow to stream episodes right now. It's really bugging me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Making Exceptions**

Thanks for all your reviews so far; communication with people besides my housemates and immediate neighbors is wonderful! And we're on to Jack Knife!

Oh, and the actual name of the hotel from Kill Ari 2 is the _Embasero_. I checked the youtube clips of that scene today to be sure. (The letters were too blurry to read until I knew from your comments what they were supposed to be.) Points to LittleCatt, JulietADeveraux, KristieM, team ziva, Chocolatery, Delta-6, Mariah4568, and Hellspirit for knowing an even more excessive amount of NCIS trivia than I do!

* * *

Somewhere a phone was ringing, but then it cut off, so Tony didn't open his eyes.

The next thing he knew something warm and heavy was sinking onto him. He didn't need to open his eyes to know what. Ziva. He smiled. Her lips fluttered at the corner of his mouth and he lifted his lids just enough to let her know he was awake. She kissed him again, lightly, chastely.

"McGee says to wake up, there is a case," Ziva said softly, her voice still husky with sleep.

Tony gave her a mock-sad face. "Please don't ever say _McGee_ after kissing me," he teased.

Ziva laughed. "We have to get up now, Tony." Somewhere in the apartment, his phone started ringing.

Instead of rising, Tony snuggled against Ziva, wincing as he realized how stiff he had gotten overnight. He slid an arm around her yielding back. "This is nice," he murmured, yawning.

Ziva relaxed against him, but when the phone began to ring again a minute later, she pulled away in alarm. "Mc-"

"Ziva!" Tony warned.

With a pointed look, Ziva sat up. "He does not know we are together. He thinks he has to wake you, too."

Now Tony was up and darting for the phone. "Right!" He grabbed it off the table where he'd left it beside his keys. "DiNozzo," he tried to answer as though he'd just woken up.

"We've got a case," McGee responded with more genuine exhaustion. Then he snorted. "You'll never guess what I just said to the boss. He told me to wake you and Ziva and I thought he meant you were sleeping together...totally tripped over my words."

"Yeah, Probie, what were you thinking?" Tony watched Ziva roll her eyes at his stilted tone and shrugged dramatically. "Anyway, I'll see you soon." He hung up the phone and shook his head at Ziva, then rushed to get dressed. It was only as he pulled on his shoes that he realized McGee hadn't made the wrong assumption. Gibbs had known about the date and probably had thought they'd be together. Tony frowned to himself as he tied his shoes. He wondered whether he could get a Rule 12 exceptions clause in writing.

*

Two hours and a crime scene later, they walked into the bullpen and found a wonderful sight. In unison the pair set down their coats and put away their weapons, deliberately leaving the drawers ajar so no noise would wake the sleeping McGee.

The stood together over him for a long, gleeful moment.

"What should we do?" Tony finally asked.

Ziva cocked her head thoughtfully. "The time we were on stakeout when you told me you had done nothing was one of the more effective pranks you have pulled."

Tony nodded equivocally and reached out, poked McGee's arm. When he got no reaction, he poked harder. Then he turned to Ziva excitedly. "What if we took him downstairs and put him in a morgue drawer? Naked? I don't think he'd wake up."

She rolled her eyes. "No."

They looked back at the sleeping agent.

"What if--" Tony started, his eyes alight, but then McGee's lashes fluttered and they froze.

"Try to look innocent," Ziva whispered with a deadly smile.

"Always," Tony murmured back.

*

Tony tensed when he heard Ziva call ex-Corporal Werth by his first name. And he didn't miss the resentful tilt of Ziva's head when she caught him looking at her with proprietary eyes.

By the time they made it to the evidence garage, he was downright anxious. Anxious enough to nag her about cleaning the truck's cab and to interrupt her conversation with Werth. He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that calling her a marionette was sure to piss Ziva off, but jealousy was sinking in.

She gave him a single ominous glare as she slammed her way into the passenger seat of Werth's car and Tony sighed heavily.

"What?" McGee asked as he climbed into their van with the audio surveillance equipment.

Tony shook his head. But as he spent the rest of the afternoon wondering how she was handling being patted down, worrying about Werth's driving, he never forgot the delighted tone she'd used to say _Damon._

_*_

Later that evening, Ziva tried to catch her breath as she watched Gibbs and Fornell cuff the leaders of the hijacking ring. Then she whirled as she heard McGee and Tony approaching. "Are you alright?" she shouted, a hint of panic in her voice as she ran her eyes over them checking for injuries.

"Us?" McGee questioned.

"We heard the flat," she explained. She looked to Tony. His eyes were boiling with anger that lanced straight through her. "Just the bang, I was worried."

"No, we're fine," McGee answered quickly, eyes darting between his teammates. "I'd better go help with the arrests."

"I'll come too," Ziva said diffidently, breaking Tony's gaze. Without a word she followed McGee.

Tony's eyes lingered on her back.

*

"Just answer the question!" Tony finally said, wanting a straight answer about Ziva's intentions with Werth.

Her teasing expression felt away, became a look of reproach. "Not here," she said commandingly. "Not here, Tony."

His teeth clenched as he bit back a reply about flirtation on NCIS grounds and her behavior all day. "Fine," he finally snarled.

*

Tony was leaning against her car waiting when Ziva got there an hour later.

"Is this 'not here' enough for you?" he demanded at once.

Ziva bristled at the hostility in his tone. "It has been a long day. Perhaps this should wait."

"A long day?" Tony said, incredulity dripping ironically from his words. "It that what you call it?"

Ziva looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Are you angry because I did something dangerous or because of Werth?"

"I rescued you!" Tony hissed, knowing even as he said it that he sounded petulant.

"I am not a princess," Ziva answered, irritated now. "You do not get to keep me in a tower safe from harm."

"I don't want to lose you!" He was nearly shouting, but his voice began to crack on the word _lose_, and the tension broke with it.

Ziva softened and took a deep breath, moved to lean against the car beside him. "Do you know what I was doing standing in front of that truck? It was a test. For me. In Somalia, I was ready to die. If Saleem had walked in and put a gun to my head, I would have closed my eyes and let him shoot. I stared down that truck today and my heart was in my throat. I couldn't breathe, let alone close my eyes. Tony, I did not want to die. And even if I had, to me that was worth knowing."

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, remembering how close the truck had come to her body. "That's great, but I can't keep pretending to take this lightly. Don't put yourself in danger. Don't dangle other men in front of me."

She winced. "I did not mean to tease you. But I am not your puppet. I have come this far on my own."

He nodded. "I know." Then he hazarded, "But, when you were being friendly with him...did you mean it?"

Ziva's expression grew more serious than Tony would have liked. "There is something simpler about talking to him, it is true," she said finally. "He has been broken by his past too."

"And I haven't?" Tony's tone was harsh.

Ziva blinked at him in surprise.

"That's what you're saying, isn't it?"

She frowned, confused. "Tony, I don't--"

"Ziva," he said, rising and standing opposite her as he began to speak urgently, "it scared me half to death thinking that you wanted to die when I found you. But only because in those five seconds between them shoving you into that room and me seeing the absence in your eyes, I had realized that for the first time in months, _I didn't_. You weren't there to see it but I was just as ready to die when we got on the plane to Africa. I was just as badly broken."

She swallowed hard, silenced by the thought of Tony dead at Saleem's hands had things gone differently.

"You don't want to die any more and that's great. Really. But mostly because I wasn't kidding or exaggerating when I said I couldn't live without you. What scares me now is that if I get any more involved and anything happens to you..." He didn't need to finish the thought.

Ziva's eyes were wide as she tried to absorb what he was saying. It was too big to deal with, this love he had for her. And the sudden knowledge that she was responsible for his happiness, in fact his life, was overwhelming.

"I have to go," she said at once.

Tony stepped back in fear. "What?"

"I just--" she held up a hand. "I need time to think about this, Tony."

He was still wary, but he backed up so she'd be able to get her car out.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Ziva said firmly, fighting her own sudden anxiety to give him the reassurance he needed.

"Sure." Tony was still uncomprehending as he watched her get into the car and drive away. As he saw her taillights leave the entrance to the Navy Yard, he finally turned to walk to his own car, remembering fondly how close he'd felt to her when they woke up that morning and wondering if he'd admitted too much.


	10. Chapter 10

**Making Exceptions**

Alas, school resumes tomorrow. I get to spend the rest of the week teaching small children to read decimals and take standardized tests. Forgive me if updates are more intermittent. But I hope you like this one! Think we'll make it to 200 review with this chapter? I always love to hear your feedback!

* * *

"What are you trying to do to yourself, DiNozzo?"

Tony turned blearily toward the voice saying his name. Gibbs slid in and out of focus. "Boss?"

Gibbs nodded to the bartender. "He's ready to pay his tab." The man nodded back gratefully and went to run Tony's credit card.

"How'd you know I was here?" Tony slurred.

Gibbs snorted. "You called me, Tony."

"Did?"

"Sign for your drinks," Gibbs ordered impatiently.

Tony managed to write his name and shoved his credit card back in his pocket. "I think I need a ride home, Boss."

With a shake of his head, Gibbs led the way toward the door. "You're just lucky I can drive again, DiNozzo. Nearly sent McGee or Ziva after you."

"Ziva..." Tony stopped in his tracks, remembering what he'd been trying to drown in tequila for the last few hours.

Gibbs turned to look at him with a hint of sympathy. "Come on, Tony. We can talk about it at home."

Tony followed him docilely out to the car and buckled his seat-belt, let the motion of the car lull him into a half-sleep.

"We're here," Gibbs announced after a few minutes, pulling into his driveway. He circled the car and hoisted Tony out. "Let's get you inside." He herded his agent up the front steps, unlocked the door, and let him sprawl on the couch.

"New lock?" Tony mumbled.

"Yeah."

"Oh, no." Moving faster than Gibbs would have thought possible, Tony darted for the downstairs bathroom. Retching sounds filtered back to the living room. Flinching, Gibbs headed upstairs for toothpaste.

On his return, he offered it to DiNozzo and went to get him water while he cleaned himself up.

Back on the couch, the men sat in silence a moment, Tony sipping at his water.

"Hell, just last night you were taking Ziva on a date," Gibbs finally said.

Tony nodded disconsolately. "I screwed it up."

"How's that?"

He sighed heavily. "Got mad that she was flirting with Werth, that she stood there in front of the truck and risked getting hit. Told her...told her how much I love her."

Gibbs frowned. "What did she say?"

Tony thought back. "That she needed time to think."

Now Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Well, anyone would, DiNozzo."

"But--" Tony turned to him, expression brightening. "Do you think so?"

"You know what I said to Ziva, when you got back from Paris?"

"Yeah?" Tony flinched a little at the knowledge that their mutual father figure had instigated their relationship.

"That when you have the chance to avoid regrets, to say the things you want to say, you should do it."

Tony's eyes cleared. "Makes sense."

Gibbs nodded. "I don't know what she's thinking, DiNozzo, and maybe you said it too soon, but one thing I've learned in this line of work is that it's better to say it than not to." He glanced away. "Still have things I wished I said."

"To Jenny?" Tony asked softly.

Gibbs looked back to him, not acknowledging the question. "Sleep it off, Tony. And let her think. You haven't screwed it up yet."

"Yet." Tony looked gloomy again.

Gibbs smiled faintly. "Wasn't what I meant. Get some rest." He pulled a blanket off the back of an armchair and tossed it to Tony. The younger man took a sip of his water and laid his head down on the couch pillow, his face still thoughtful.

"Goodnight." Gibbs flicked off the light-switch and headed upstairs.

"'Night, Gibbs." Laying the dark, vertigo swirling his thoughts, Tony remembered the better moments of the past week—the kisses, Ziva's smile. He had no regrets.

*

Ziva ran. With every step, pounding the pavement, she replayed the moments since Somalia. _Couldn't live without you I guess_. It was no longer one of Tony's offhand mutterings. He had finally made it clear that it was the whole truth. It changed everything.

Every conversation they'd had, every time she'd caught him watching her—it all took on new meaning. The probie jokes, his delight that she'd joined the team. His worry when she wouldn't talk about Somalia. And this conversation tonight...she almost resented Tony at that moment, for forcing her hand. For making all the choices she'd ever make again about him, about what he needed from her. From their supposed first date the night before, he'd leapt straight to the end of the relationship, asking for a greater commitment of love from her than most marriages demanded. Her indignance sped her footsteps.

She couldn't help but worry, too. What Tony had said was so overwhelming that it made her wonder if her feelings compared. Was it fair to continue this if she wasn't sure she felt—or even had the capacity to feel—the same way?

She jogged toward a intersection, lost in thought, only to rear back in panic as a car ran the red light. Ziva nearly screamed after the car, but instead a laugh emerged from her lips. It was alright, she thought. This was what she wanted. She wouldn't be living for him, but for herself.

As Ziva turned back toward her home, panting in the cold air, there was something inside her that was changing, glowing like an ember Tony had blown on and brought back to life. The knowledge was spreading through her that this man, whom she respected and adored, who knew her completely, had found her worthy of a kind of love she'd never taken the time to imagine. Just knowing it warmed her in the winter night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Making Exceptions**

Just kidding, we had a snow day today, too. And we have delays for the rest of the week. What have we done to our planet?

* * *

Tony's heart raced. He was being watched. He glanced up in time to see Ziva's eyes dart back down to her computer monitor.

Tony grimaced in frustration. Since their fight on Tuesday night Ziva had avoided being alone with him. Or at least it felt like she had. He leaned back in his chair, studying her. Her face lacked the lines around her eyes and mouth that gave away when she slept poorly or was recovering from a flashback. Tony couldn't help smiling. He didn't love her _because_ she was beautiful, but she certainly was.

Ziva glanced over and caught his gaze, but Tony didn't back down, instead simply broadened his affectionate grin. She seemed startled to find him looking back at her, but after a moment her eyes seemed to smile back in wonder.

Tony felt like laughing aloud. He didn't know what was going through her mind, but when she looked at him like that he knew that sooner or later she'd come around.

After a moment, Ziva leaned forward and swallowed nervously. She looked around for McGee and Gibbs, and spoke only when she was sure they were not there. "Tony."

"Ziva." He rolled her name off his tongue playfully.

She nodded, then said quickly. "I have an appointment later with Dr. Harper. Would you come?"

Tony raised his eyebrows in surprise. Only a week earlier, he'd been the one making this invitation. "Of course," he answered lightly.

Ziva rewarded him with a smile. "Good." She turned back to her work.

He watched her for another long moment before returning to his own.

*

Dr. Harper looked back and forth between the people seated across from her. She did her share of couples' counseling, but these two were a far cry from most of the couples she saw. "How have you been?" she finally asked. "When I saw you together last week we talked about giving each other space. How is that going?"

Ziva snorted softly, looking away from Tony.

Harper frowned. "Ziva?"

She looked up, her eyes panicky.

"Well, she nearly got hit by a truck so I basically told her I'd give up living without her," Tony slipped in, covering for Ziva's nerves.

Harper didn't miss the gratitude in Ziva's eyes. Then she processed Tony's words. "You did what?" she asked him.

"Yeah..." he flinched. "But I gave her space afterward."

The doctor frowned. She opened her mouth to ask Ziva what had happened with the truck but noticed the young woman's obvious tension. Instead she asked, "Ziva, what else have you done since I saw you last?"

"We went on a first date," Ziva offered.

"What did you do?" Harper asked politely.

Ziva hesitated. "Tony recreated how we met. It was very romantic."

Harper smiled. "How did you meet?"

Tony snorted as Ziva glanced to him for help. "Well, Ziva was trying to help her brother get out of the country because she didn't think he'd killed my partner Kate, except really he had. So I was following her, Ziva I mean, around DC."

"And watching me swim," Ziva added with a giggle.

Tony laughed too, mostly at the concerned look on Harper's face. Then he grew more serious. "Believe it or not we had our first real conversation that night, even though we were still on opposing sides. So I took her back to that same hotel." Ziva slipped her fingers into his and Tony squeezed them gently.

Harper frowned warily. "Well, that's quite a story."

"One for the grandkids," Tony quipped. He felt Ziva freeze and glanced between the women anxiously. "I didn't mean—I wasn't saying--"

Ziva shook her head. "It is alright, Tony. I know you were kidding."

Harper cocked her head, studying the couple. "If you met years ago, why didn't you get involved then?"

"Rule twelve," the pair answered in unison.

"Jinx!" Tony snapped.

Ziva grinned at him and rolled her eyes.

"Rule twelve?" Harper asked.

Tony nodded for Ziva to answer.

"Our boss, Gibbs, has rules. Never screw over your partner, always carry a knife, never be unreachable. Like that. Rule twelve says never to date a co-worker."

Harper raised her eyebrows.

"He got his heart broken once," Tony offered in answer to her unspoken question.

"By someone we also worked with," Ziva added.

"I see," Harper nodded. "But if the rule says not to date a co-worker, what's changed?"

Ziva glanced at Tony, letting him take over. She'd never heard this part from him.

Tony spoke softly, his eyes on Harper's face, not ready to address this story to Ziva. "I told you before how we thought Ziva was dead."

Harper glanced at Ziva's suddenly distraught expression. "You did."

"I let loose on Gibbs one night, about how the rules had kept me from loving her." He relaxed slightly as he felt Ziva tighten her grip on his hand. "He sort of admitted the rules were wrong. For us, anyway."

Ziva nodded. "He said the same thing to me, when we got back from Paris."

Harper studied them thoughtfully for a moment.

"What?" Tony asked nervously.

"Well," Harper began, "from the time I've spent with you, it seems like you're both the sort of people who do well with rules. Ziva, you were raised to thrive in a highly structured environment. And Tony, you seem to have lacked structure in your childhood. As an adult, from what I know about you, you depend on the rules of your profession and your boss to give you that structure."

The pair across from her nodded in agreement with Harper's judgment.

She took a moment to put the rest of her advice into words. "It seems to me that when your boss made this exception for you and took away the rule that had defined your relationship, neither of you knew what to do. I'd recommend you create some rules for yourselves, to make sure you both understand how the other person expects to communicate and to let you define your relationship for yourselves."

Ziva smiled slightly. "What will the new rule twelve be?" she asked, glancing at Tony with a grin.

"Only date your partner?" Tony suggested gleefully. "Never date a Mossad agent?"

She glared at him, but the smile didn't entirely leave her face.

"Take some time before next week to think about it," Dr. Harper concluded. "Let me know what you come up with."

*

As they left the office half an hour later, Tony and Ziva headed toward their cars.

"Hey!" Ziva called as she reached hers.

"Yeah?" Tony shouted back.

"Would you like to come over?" She smiled hopefully.

Tony grinned back. This was what he had decided, all those months ago, to live for. "I'll meet you there."

* * *

Ta-da! In case you didn't notice, I checked the box that says this story is complete! But never fear, there's going to be a sequel called "Making Rules" coming soon. Maybe tomorrow? We'll see. In the meantime, thanks to everyone who has let me know they've enjoyed this story in one way or another. To those of you who haven't, please do! And be sure to salt your sidewalks, it's icy out there.


End file.
